At A Moral Center
by thestartling
Summary: Except for a sense of honor, and decency, and a moral center. -- Jack Sparrow, slight Jack/Elizabeth, but only if you squint.


Surprise! I wrote this without a theme. Though my personal theme must have been writing in first person, since I usually _never_ do it. But I guess I felt festively inclined, since this was written way back on Halloween. And for a class, believe it or not. Film as Lit. Loved that class.

Anyway. Enjoy odd-voice-because-it's-Jack-Sparrow fic. I remember this being incredibly fun to write, though rather difficult to explain to my grammar-nazi English teachers.

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**At A Moral Center**

"_One day, you'll have a chance to do something, something courageous. And when you do, you'll discover something. That you're a good man." - Elizabeth Swann_

I went back; I turned the dingy around and climbed aboard the Pearl before I'd even known I was making the decision to do so. It seems those are the only kinds of decisions that lead up to an entirely unselfish action on my part. I hate those decisions.

The rifle, dropped by Beastie's newest victim, the poor bloke, clattered upon the deck the same time I jumped over the railing. Young William seemed a bit pre-occupied. Occupied with oversized octopus-- ...nonetheless, busy, and of course, it's correct to assume that since he's busy, no one else was aware of his plan, and as he did not look apt to be screaming it -- though maybe close to doing so judging by his expression -- I guess it was left to me to be the other half of his scheme. Always seems to be the case. The rifle was sliding, rocking and careening, almost ready to flip and be lost to the angry sea (like my poor, darling Pearl), so I stomped my foot down on it. Seemed like a good idea. Seemed like I barely missed Elizabeth's hand, which surprised me. Seemed like she was the other half of William's scheme after all. Now that does not surprise me. Leave it to dear William to leave it to dear Elizabeth to save---

Nah, now that was my part. I picked up the rifle. I looked to the net, trying to steady myself against the rocking, with added difficulty thanks to dear Elizabeth's death grip on my leg. Bloody woman; bloody ship; bloody beastie-- bloody Will get out of the bloody net! He finally cut himself loose and leapt, and the tentacles began to swarm around the gunpowder barrels. Closer and tighter, and I aimed, and steadied, and just as the barrels began to fall I fired. The bullet hit one and there went the chain of explosions. Voilà, me hearties.

I stood and watched as the tentacles slowly retreated, and felt in dreadful need of some strong rum. The tug of Elizabeth pulling herself up brought me back, but she didn't speak to me. Instead she looked upon me with those annoying, beautifully searching eyes. Perhaps rum wouldn't do the trick, actually. I walked past her and down the steps as Gibbs began walking towards me.

"Captain! Orders!" He was frantic and worse for the wear.

I passed him the rifle. "Abandon ship, into the longboat," I ordered and walked by him. I knew he would not take to that. Call me daft or some other nonsense. But for once in all our years I felt he was describing me perfectly-- abandon the Pearl? I could barely believe my own ears.

"Jack. The Pearl." He said it with such confusion. I paused. Perhaps I would have paused anyway; perhaps I would have changed my mind had Gibbs not called me on it. It's what I need from him. Good first mate, aye? "She's only a ship, mate," I gritted out. It did not take as long as I thought it would to say.

It did not take long, like I didn't think it would, for Elizabeth to agree. "He's right. We have to head for land." She spoke with such conviction, and yet I'd known she would, especially when looking upon me; she is no longer the naieve bonnie lass Will and I -- mostly Will -- set out to rescue some time ago. But then I wonder if she ever really was that lass to begin with. I hate to admit, but sometimes she can see through me. But I might be right in seeing through her; in pondering the idea that she could pass as one of us, as a pi--

"It's a lot of open water," Pintel cut in. "It's a lot of water," the wooden-eye sidekick repeats. Will was just as repetetive, if not more since it's always in his nature to be so, with his response: "We have to try. We can get away as it takes down the Pearl."

Gibbs was digesting their words, while to me it all seemed like a puch to the you-know-what's. He then said, "Aye, abandon ship. Abandon ship or abandon hope." I turned away as they all began preparing the longboat, to say goodbye to my Pearl. To have to do this was probably due to karma, the wench, I thought. But, in actuality, not really. This was simply another one of my daft schemes catching up with me, and when I thought I could outsmart it like all the others I didn't worry myself with the details anyway. A man, pirate or not, can't escape his consequences forever. ...Doesn't sound like good ol' Jack's philosophies, really, does it? I certainly did not feel like good ol' witty Captain Jack Sparrow. Tia Dalma's words rang back to me: "Ahhh? The great Jack Sparrow does not know what 'e wants." It always was like her to get in a last laugh at my circumstances.

"Thank you, Jack," Elizabeth said. I turned to face her; another woman who vexes me. In all honesty I'm pretty sure I couldn't count all these women on one hand, but I do know that she beats them all out.

"We're not free yet, love." It was all I could say. Captain Jack is still honest. Or, wait-- honor? That's amusing; I had never considered to think that this was a force in me that could be responsible for the atrocious idea of coming back.

"You came back. I always knew you were a good man." Ah, yes. She reminded me. She was the one that put that notion in me head. We all have the chance to do something courageous. She sidled up closer and closer, and her words spun in my head, and then she was, somehow, kissing me. Had I kissed her first? Doesn't matter. We did; we were. As her lips moved over mine, waves of everything crashed over me: the passion and desire and guilt and then her words. At _honor_ she was kissing me. At_ decency_ she was kissing me. At _and a moral center_ and she was kissing me. _Curiosity_, it was, love. Plain old curiosity she was and she caught the sparrow.

I knew it as soon as I bumped against the mast. Definitely knew it when the cuff scraped over my wrist. It was warmer than her, though, I realized, and again her words were ringing through me. This tone was different. I really couldn't help but smile.

"It's after you, not the ship. It's not us. And this is the only way, don't you see?" Oh yes. I saw. "I'm not sorry."

"...Pirate." She left.

Incidentally, I did not remain long in my thoughts of her recent graduation from upscale lass to the low-blow love. Much more pressing matters to attend to. I turned to the cuff and tried wrenching my hand free, tugging, pulling, writhing, and etcetera. None of this seemed to help, and soon I was aware the ship became rocking. Hello, I thought. I turned just as a cannon ball was rolling by, and that led me eye to the lantern. Hello! With my sword I gained a leverage system and twirled the lantern up to me, breaking it against the mast, and the wax fell, with quite the perfect aim if I do say so, on my hand. This helped to caused the ensuement of more writhing and pulling and, of course, the etcetera motions, and finally I wrenched my hand free. Now came the fact that Jack in full was not free at all. In fact, danger had just crept up right behind me.

As soon as I turned, the beastie thought it within himself to roar, or bellow, or whatever one would call it. A noise it makes before killing me, in any case. Curious. Curiosity. Speaking of, there's my hat! I bent down and retrieved it. I would need it for a captain's final adventure, and I guess there was nothing left to do but face it head on. I unsheathed my sword.

...Maybe dear Elizabeth was correct. I did want to discover something.

"Hello, Beastie."

That I was a good man at the end of my story.


End file.
